Apocalypse City

Chapter Two

They seemed to walk for hours and hours. None of them spoke, not because they didn't have a subject about which to talk, but because it hadn't really, truly hit them that Tim was gone. Forever. They'd never see him again, but they weren't thinking about the past. No, not the past, but the future. They didn't know what lay ahead, what a higher being, a deity, perhaps even just fate, had in store for them. Noone thought about how they got to be on Earth anymore. Everyone just thought about surviving in this forsaken world of the dead.

America's government had been quite active in the beginning of what was definitely the apocalypse. The military was present, the president was present, hell, the Governors of every state were all present. They even had clips on the news revealing the Governor of Texas with a shotgun blowing away the dead in his yard. But, that was all years ago. Now, there was no government. There were a few soldiers left, most of them being of the National Guard. You'd see them, but they were mostly looters now. A small handful of the small handful of National Guardsmen would actually help you out nowadays. They'd leave you with your weapons, but no other supplies.

They walked through the tunnel until they finally reached the end. Rory turned on his heel to face Gail and Tony, both of whom had very, very blank expressions riddled on their faces.

"Well… This must be it, eh? I guess we're finally here." He looked up at the trapdoor, listened for a moment. He heard nothing, and so he pulled on the cord that opened it, and it promptly fell open with a soft thud. "Let's go, shall we? Ladies first," he said as Gail clambered up onto the floor of the gun shop. Tony thrust her pistol up at her before hoisting himself up behind her. Rory took one last look down the dimly lit passageway, then climbed up onto the hardwood.

Upon looking around, he saw that everything was boarded up. He saw shadows moving outside, and faintly heard groans through the glass. He held up his index finger to his lips in the direction of Gail and Tony, telling them to be quiet. Tony turned around, his eyes continually distant. He walked over to the counter, as did the other two.

"Hey, look at this," whispered Tony, and he picked up a note off the marble. He read it aloud, very quietly, very wearily, for all that separated them from the undead hordes outside was a few 2x4's and some drywall.

"If you've found this note, congratulations. You just earned yourself a loosely supplied gun store! Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jack McGill, and I own this place. Or rather, I did, before the devil came back to Earth to kill us, or eat us, all. I've only taken a pistol, a shotgun, and some bullets. The rest I can only assume has been looted. I left here about two weeks into the disaster. Everything that you can find in here, you can have. I wish you the best of luck, and-"

Tony stopped talking and looked up. "That's it. Nothing else. Just… Well, look for yourself."

Rory grabbed the poorly scrawled note out of Tony's hand and looked at it. The letter did, indeed, end there. There was dried blood under the words. He looked on the counter where the note was, and there was a lot more blood. There was a trail to a spot about 3 feet away, as well as a few 9mm shells and a pool of blood. There was a rotting corpse, nearly just a skeleton, lying on the floor a few inches away from the shells.

"Looks like someone got eaten…" observed Gail as she leant over the blood. "He must've been writing, then got bit from behind… Died and reanimated, just like the rest of 'em. Poor bastard."

"Nothin' we can do now. Let's get some weapons, huh?" remarked Tony, and he began to search the building. Rory and Gail looked at each other, then helped Tony in his search. They came upon a safe, an open safe, and peered inside. There was nearly six thousand dollars in hundred- and twenty-dollar bills.

"What the fuck does this do for us? Shit…" said Rory, but Tony piped up from the other end of the shop.

"Hey guys! Check it out! We're in business!" He held up a couple shotguns. "There's loads of guns in these cabinets! Let's grab 'em and find somewhere to hunker down the night. Hey, whatcha got there, Rory?" He walked over and looked into the safe. "Oh sweet, cash." said Tony as he began to stuff his pockets. He looked at the other two as if they were insane not to be following his example.

"That's useless, Tony. It's money. Money has no value now," scolded Gail. Tony replied, only by saying that they may find a colony that still uses money, or start one of their own. The other two agreed sullenly, then filled their pockets as well. They walked over to the gun cabinets and their faces lit up in awe. They began to grab weapons and ammo by the armful. Tony grabbed a shotgun, threw it over his back by the strap, grabbed an AK-47, and threw it over his back as well. He proceeded to grab two pistols and shove them in his waistband and then looked around for a bag for ammunition. Gail grabbed a rifle and two pistols, and Rory grabbed his weapon of choice. He grabbed a Skorpion submachine gun, along with two pistols. Tony came back with four bags for ammunition. They all stocked their respective bags with ammo, then filled the fourth with canned food and water they found in the back room.

"We'll take turns carrying it when we travel. I'll take it the first day, then Gail, then Tony, then back to me. Agreed?" reasoned Rory. Everyone nodded in affirmation. They found 3 cots in the back and gradually fell asleep after much debate over whether or not the zombies would die out soon.

"If you guys think about it, it takes roughly 2 years for a body to decompose enough that it can't move. Figure that in with the slowed rate of decomposition that we've evidently seen, I would say… six years. So roughly three and a half years and we should be all set." Gail had been a doctor before recent events, and the other two accepted her word as law, simply because she knew a hell of a lot more than they would on the subject of decaying human bodies.

They woke up the next morning fairly groggy. They knew they had to leave that day. There were more groaning shadows outside the boarded up windows than the previous night. Some of them were even trying to get in. The zombies knew they were there.

The trio ate their breakfast, consisting of canned beans and some very watered-down apple juice made from terrible mix, grabbed their things and congregated at the back door.

"Everyone ready? Got ammo, food, water, et cetera?" asked Rory. There was no time for a reply, because just then, the board covering the flimsily repaired front door snapped, and zombies began to trickle in, one by one. Rory took one horrified look at the corpses, then looked at the thick wooden door in front of him, kicked it open, and shouted at the other two to follow him. They ran across the street, took a look at their surroundings for a moment, then ran towards a nearby police station. The zombies saw them, and started slowly making their way to the threesome.

Rory ran up to the door, and pulled at it. It didn't open. He tugged and tugged, but there was no way it would open. Suddenly, a voice came over an intercom beside the door.

"Who the hell are you? Hey, asshole, get your hands off my door." They told the mysterious voice who they were and their predicament. "God damn it… Alright, get inside." There was a slight buzzing noise and the door popped open slightly. Tony grabbed the handle and yanked it open. They all ducked inside and slammed the door behind them. A man was waiting just inside the doorway for them, looking down the barrel of a single shot shotgun.

"What are you doin' here?" he bellowed hoarsely at them. They, once again, told the man their issue, and what had happened recently. "A gun shop eh? Hey, John!' the man called over his shoulder, his shotgun now lowered. "These folks say they found a gun shop! We can finally get s'more ammo! Ain't that a coincidence!" He turned back to the trio. "We been fendin' off them dead for days now. We just got rid o' the last of 'em when you lot came along." he growled. He grumbled as he walked back down the hall. Rory looked at the other two, then they followed him down the corridor. He pointed the armoury, mess hall, sleeping quarters, and other related necessary places in the precinct out to them before he went back to the front security office.

They were given cots to set up in the holding areas by John, the apparent leader of the group of police officers, doctors, firefighters, and citizens from nearby who went to the precinct for safety at the beginning of the outbreak. Rory soon realized that night was quickly falling, and suddenly felt very tired. He lay down on his cot, and his last thought was that he had finally done some good by Tony and Gail; brought them to safety.